


A (Primal is a) Wish Your Heart Makes

by LadyRamora



Series: Snippets of Ger (Original Character) [2]
Category: FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward - Fandom, final fantasy 14 - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Primal Acquisition, Angst and Feels, Awkwardness, Blood, F/M, Ger Almost Dies but then she Doesn't, Ger is in Trouble, Ger summons a Primal By Accident, Glowing Eyes, Guilt, Heavensward Spoilers, Horny Haurchefant-shaped Primal, Long Hair, Magic, Other, Possessive Behavior, Size Difference, Survivor Guilt, Tempering???, Wings, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRamora/pseuds/LadyRamora
Summary: He was beautiful, but also terrifying. A primal. An eikon. Ger knew he could easily do whatever he wished and Ger could not stop him. Why then did he seem so willing to listen to her? Because she had summoned him?
Relationships: Germanotta "Ger" Lionheart/Haurchefant Greystone (past), Original Character(s)/Monster, Original Character(s)/Primal
Series: Snippets of Ger (Original Character) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142774
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	A (Primal is a) Wish Your Heart Makes

Was this the end? Ger muses, staring up into the dying light of the sun as gentle snow drifted around her.

Was this her end?

The snow under her stains with the slow, steady spread of red, but all she can think about is Haurchefant.

Amusing as it would be, she could hear him scolding her for being so reckless. For rushing forward blindly with no concern for her health.

"Just like you." Ger whispers with copper on her tongue.

Her eyes feel heavy. Tired and weighted with tears. Gods, she missed him.

Her eyes close, tears dripping hot over her skin in the frigid air. She prays fervently, her mind's eye filled with naught but him. The warmth of his smile, the sound of his laugh. The memories they had made together. All she wanted was to see him again, to wrap her arms around him. To bask in his warmth.

Please.

"Please."

The light shining down on her becomes unbearable and Ger can do naught but clench her eyes shut against it.

A shadow blessedly blocks out the light. Ger opens her eyes blearily and stares, shocked to silence at what meets her eyes.

"....Lord Haurchefant?" She manages to rasp out, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She knows it is wrong the moment she says it, but the resemblance is horrifyingly uncanny.

He is large. Enormous and powerful, he glows with an unnatural primordial light. Yet it is a warm glow, soft and comforting instead of a garish brightness. His hair is far too long, to his feet in length, and floating in the air around him as if caught in some strange wind. And his armor is wrong, different. The chainmail is there, aye, but her lord had never worn a cape or so much blue, though the color suited him. As he comes closer, the knight could see his eyes too are much too blue, bright and glowing. He had wings, for Halone's sake!

But still in this false Haurchefant, this false god; could she see those features that were uniquely her Lord's. The aquiline shape of his nose, his lips very much the same in the curve of his smile. The soft way he calls to her - "Ger," - fond, affectionate, like he truly cared for her. Fury, as if he could. He was a Primal. This was not what she had meant. Not what she had wanted in her foolish, heartfelt plea. She had only wanted to return to her lord. To be at his side again, even in death.

Ger cannot help the soft heartfelt sob she lets out. Nor the flooding fall off her tears. "Lord Haurchefant," she pleads, closing her eyes and turning her face away. "Forgive me," she begs in a voice that rasps, and it is the false god who reaches for her.

He picks her up, cradling her in his arms as she cries out in the agony that his moving her brings.

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me...!

Ger whimpers and groans, struggling weakly. "Let me go, you... wretched thing! You are not my lord! How dare you, how dare you..!" She tries to strike out at him, but he is like steel and her blows do naught but glance off of him and make her bleed all the faster. Her sword is much too far to reach, lying forgotten in the snow where she, too, had fallen.

Gods, what had she done? She had not noticed the twice damned crystals... And now the Warrior of Light would be forced to...

Ger cries out, curling in on herself as the primal prods at her wounds. "Ah! Stop toying with me..! Just kill me. Or... or enslave my mind, whatever it is you blasted Primals do!" Was it not instantaneous? Why was she not yet Tempered? Would she know? Should she not feel the desire to serve him, feel her mind slipping away?

The primal has the gall to look hurt, the audacity to look at her whilst wearing His face and try to make her feel guilty.

"Ger," the Primal whines.

Ger closes her eyes to it, flushing hot with heavy tears as she whimpers and quietly begs, "Please stop. Do not call me so. Say something; anything else. End me now, or go away and let me die in peace."

The Primal stares down at her, his expression twisting, and then he scowls.

"No," he growls.

Ger blinks, lethargic from blood loss. "No?"

"No," the false god repeats, and lays his huge hand over her. Ger flinches, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for pain, or tempering, or even death. Instead there is warmth followed by the soft tinkling sound of magic. Ger cracks an eye open as the Primal's hand drops away.

Her wounds had knitted themselves together, and though her chainmail was still in rough shape, all the blood that had been covering her was gone. He had.. healed her? No. Why had he done that? She had been ready.

"Why...?"

The Primal tugs her hand up with fingers carefully pinched around her wrist, and Ger flinches minutely back. The Primal's lips thin, be he only pauses for a moment before leading her hand towards his face.

"What are you...?" Ger asks faintly, trailing off as the Primal presses his face against her palm.

"Gerrr," the Primal hums with a fluttering of truly ridiculous dark eyelashes, rolling the 'r' of her shortened name like a purring growl.

Gods and Goddesses, why did he have to look and sound so much like her Lord Haurchefant?

This was all her fault. She had to get in contact with the Warrior of Light. But how? Twas most important that she keep the Primal away from people. She could not rightly tell the Primal to stay put whilst she returned to Camp Dragonhead or to Ishgard.

No, she could not allow him to leave her sight. Perhaps she was a lost cause herself - for the who knew if the Primal was already working his thrall on her? - but as long as Ger kept him out in the wild and away from civilization there should be no casualties.

"Mine." The Primal says softly, bringing the knight back into focus from her frantic thoughts and then possessively adds, "My knight," and Ger's blood goes cold.

By the Fury, did the Primal think he was actually Haurchefant? Because of her? Because she dared plead with Halone to see him again? Bitterness settles on Ger's tongue, and she turns her face away for a moment, moaning low. Gods...

The Primal's hand drops away from trapping her hand to his face to tip her chin back towards him. His eyebrows furrow, eyes much too blue. "My... lion.. heart."

Ger squeezes her eyes shut, her Lord's voice ringing in her ears, all the times he had called her so affectionately, and sometimes teasingly. "My lion hearted knight."

Her lips tremble, "Lord Haurchefant."

The Primal seems pleased, perhaps assuming she was addressing him.

Ger slumps forward, resting her gloved hands against the Primal's face, her eyes wide and doe eyed pleading as she softens her expression to the best of her ability. "My lord," she murmurs, and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth to address any other so besides her actual lord, "you can understand me, yes?"

The Primal beams, and it hurts to look at him. Gods, why could she have not wished for Halone instead? It would hurt less when the Primal was inevitably destroyed.

The Primal nods happily, agreeing. "Yes!"

Ger nods solemnly, swallowing back her feelings as she says soft and soothing like speaking to a distraught child, "We must away, my.. my lord. To a place where no mere mortal can reach us. You understand?" Ger presses her hands into his face, gazing deep into those glowing eyes. "Just.. you and I. Alone. Far away." Where no other would unwittingly stumble upon them and become Tempered by proximity.

The Primal pauses, considering. And then his eyes go hooded. Ohhh. Nnoo. Ger recognized that look. She had not thought Primals _had_ such... _urges_. Surely he did not think...? But Ger had brought him into existence thinking of her lord Haurchefant...

Well, this was... erm...

Her lord Haurchefant had been known to be flirtatious. Rumored to be promiscuous even, though Ger had known better. As often as her lord had - jokingly or no - invited the peoples he fancied to his personal quarters, he was not lascivious. In fact, her lord had been very particular about such things. All flirtation had been harmless fun aside from a very select few.

"Alone," the Primal repeats, and turns his face just so to brush his lips across her palm and fingers, eyelashes lowered and blue eyes like liquid flame. "Yes."

He gathers her close, and Ger has only a moment to register the movement of his wings - oh, that was right, he had wings! - before the Primal bends down and pushes off, taking them up into the air and away from Natalan, far away from Camp Dragonhead and Coerthas itself.

The windchill is enough to freeze Ger to the bone and forceful enough to make her eyes water. She hides her face against the Primal, warmed despite herself in thanks to the unnatural body heat he seemed to exude effortlessly. The holes in her armor where her wounds had been provide little protection against the elements, so Ger burrows even closer in contrast to everything in her telling her she should escape.

The Primal curls his arms around her, and then seems to be even warmer if that were possible. Ger feels as if a bubble of warmth closes around her, warding off and protecting her from the chill. She looks up and finds the Primal gazing down at her with too blue eyes. Ger looks down, feeling a little too warm in her face. She feels terrible, conflicted and wretched. This was not her lord, but he wore his face and spoke with his voice.

He was beautiful, but also terrifying. A primal. An eikon. Ger knew he could easily do whatever he wished and Ger could not stop him. Why then did he seem so willing to listen to her? Because she had summoned him?

No, it made no sense. All the Primals summoned before had eventually wanted to destroy. To fight. To gorge themselves on aether. Just because he seemed ill inclined for it now did not mean he would not become so eventually.

All Ger could do was take him far away and hope that the Warrior of Light could eventually track them down.

If Ger lasted that long.


End file.
